The trip to the Artisan Tribe was supposed to be simple. Some of the other minors had been complaining about needing a new set of cooking pots for a few weeks, and only recently had their leader given them permission to go get a new set. Kyle had expected them to make a trip out to one of the trading posts, but instead, a few of the other minors had told him they were headed towards the Artisan Tribe directly. Supposedly, one of his fellow minors had heard word that the Artisan Tribe had recently gathered enough supplies to make another NukeBoy™.
Kyle wasn’t interested in radiation detecting devices, and he certainly wasn’t interested in cookware. He was barely interested in mining, but that was something he couldn’t ignore so easily. It wasn’t that the mining tribe was terrible, but he’d only been there for about a week and a half, and Kyle was already positive that it wasn’t the life he was interested in living. After being abandoned by the Fertility Tribe, he felt homeless, and living with the mining tribe made him feel empty, like there wasn’t anything he could do to fix his situation. He was trapped.
When he lived in the Fertility Tribe, he felt like he had a purpose. He’d been so sure that his test would come back positive. All his friends’ had. He hadn’t exactly been looking forward to being part of the child-creation processes, but at least that couldn’t have been worse than working in the dark, claustrophobic mines. At least he would have had his friend Becca there with him. She’d been a nurse in the child-care sector even though she was infertile. She’d practically raised him, and she was one of the only people from the Fertility Tribe that he actually missed, being as she was the only person he knew who had cried for him when he announced that he had been declared infertile.
The ride to the Artisan Tribe’s territory must be shorter than he’d imagined because the coyote that Kyle had been riding on with one of his fellow miners was suddenly coming to a stop.
“Are we here already?” he asked. He looked around, but he didn’t see any shops. Instead, towering in front of him was a gray stone building. In big blocky letters, the front of the building said: Wisconsin State Reformatory. He recognized that sign from some old pictures he’d seen of Gator Bay from before the war. Kyle whipped his head around to look at the miner he’d ridden with. “Why are we at the prison?”
His co-worker smirked and then glanced around to the others in their little group: three other boys in total. “Did you really think we cared that much about a new set of kitchen pots?” Kyle shrugged, his confusion clear on his face. The other boy rolled his eyes, growing impatient with Kyle’s confusion. “It’s just a little newbie initiation, Kyle.”
There was a moment everything became clear, but once it did, he shook his head violently. “No way. I’m not going in there.”
“Oh, come on!” one of the boys grabbed his shoulders and together they all guided him towards the building. Kyle struggled against them, digging his heals into the ground, but to no avail. The other boys were a few years older than him, and all of them were stronger than he was, already having years of cruel experience working in the mines. One of the boys ripped open the big wooden door and another shoved Kyle through it, closing it immediately before Kyle could escape.
Kyle banged on the heavy door with his fists. “This isn’t funny! Let me out!”
The other boys braced themselves against the door to prevent Kyle from opening it. They all laughed to themselves. “Don’t worry, man. You only have to stay in there for an hour!”
Heart sinking, Kyle gave up on the door, and turned to face the rest of the building. The smell alone was almost too much for him to handle; he could practically taste the death in the air. Everywhere he looked there were human bones and dead mice. He raised his arm to his face so he could block out the stench.
The first time he'd felt claustrophobic, he'd been in the mines, and now being trapped in the dark prison, he experienced that feeling again. The entire complex was completely silent except for his heavy breathing.
From the other side of the door, Kyle could hear one of his new “friends” giving him instructions. He had to stay in the building for the rest of the hour; otherwise he’d fail the initiation. “You can stand in one place if you want to, but the time goes by quicker if you look around,” one of the boys called.
Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, and let his back fall against the door. He’d been kicked out of the Fertility Tribe, the only home he’d even known, and now some idiot miners were torturing him. He’d been toying with the idea of running away and joining the scavengers or raiders, but he’d never been certain. Now, after this bullshit, he was surer than ever that he didn’t belong with the miners. Maybe one day, he’d return to the mines as a raider, but he would never return as a worker.
Taking a reluctant step forward, Kyle walked deeper into the heart of the prison, and further away from his ex-coworkers.
Kyle wasn’t interested in radiation detecting devices, and he certainly wasn’t interested in cookware. He was barely interested in mining, but that was something he couldn’t ignore so easily. It wasn’t that the mining tribe was terrible, but he’d only been there for about a week and a half, and Kyle was already positive that it wasn’t the life he was interested in living. After being abandoned by the Fertility Tribe, he felt homeless, and living with the mining tribe made him feel empty, like there wasn’t anything he could do to fix his situation. He was trapped.
When he lived in the Fertility Tribe, he felt like he had a purpose. He’d been so sure that his test would come back positive. All his friends’ had. He hadn’t exactly been looking forward to being part of the child-creation processes, but at least that couldn’t have been worse than working in the dark, claustrophobic mines. At least he would have had his friend Becca there with him. She’d been a nurse in the child-care sector even though she was infertile. She’d practically raised him, and she was one of the only people from the Fertility Tribe that he actually missed, being as she was the only person he knew who had cried for him when he announced that he had been declared infertile.
The ride to the Artisan Tribe’s territory must be shorter than he’d imagined because the coyote that Kyle had been riding on with one of his fellow miners was suddenly coming to a stop.
“Are we here already?” he asked. He looked around, but he didn’t see any shops. Instead, towering in front of him was a gray stone building. In big blocky letters, the front of the building said: Wisconsin State Reformatory. He recognized that sign from some old pictures he’d seen of Gator Bay from before the war. Kyle whipped his head around to look at the miner he’d ridden with. “Why are we at the prison?”
His co-worker smirked and then glanced around to the others in their little group: three other boys in total. “Did you really think we cared that much about a new set of kitchen pots?” Kyle shrugged, his confusion clear on his face. The other boy rolled his eyes, growing impatient with Kyle’s confusion. “It’s just a little newbie initiation, Kyle.”
There was a moment everything became clear, but once it did, he shook his head violently. “No way. I’m not going in there.”
“Oh, come on!” one of the boys grabbed his shoulders and together they all guided him towards the building. Kyle struggled against them, digging his heals into the ground, but to no avail. The other boys were a few years older than him, and all of them were stronger than he was, already having years of cruel experience working in the mines. One of the boys ripped open the big wooden door and another shoved Kyle through it, closing it immediately before Kyle could escape.
Kyle banged on the heavy door with his fists. “This isn’t funny! Let me out!”
The other boys braced themselves against the door to prevent Kyle from opening it. They all laughed to themselves. “Don’t worry, man. You only have to stay in there for an hour!”
Heart sinking, Kyle gave up on the door, and turned to face the rest of the building. The smell alone was almost too much for him to handle; he could practically taste the death in the air. Everywhere he looked there were human bones and dead mice. He raised his arm to his face so he could block out the stench.
The first time he'd felt claustrophobic, he'd been in the mines, and now being trapped in the dark prison, he experienced that feeling again. The entire complex was completely silent except for his heavy breathing.
From the other side of the door, Kyle could hear one of his new “friends” giving him instructions. He had to stay in the building for the rest of the hour; otherwise he’d fail the initiation. “You can stand in one place if you want to, but the time goes by quicker if you look around,” one of the boys called.
Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, and let his back fall against the door. He’d been kicked out of the Fertility Tribe, the only home he’d even known, and now some idiot miners were torturing him. He’d been toying with the idea of running away and joining the scavengers or raiders, but he’d never been certain. Now, after this bullshit, he was surer than ever that he didn’t belong with the miners. Maybe one day, he’d return to the mines as a raider, but he would never return as a worker.
Taking a reluctant step forward, Kyle walked deeper into the heart of the prison, and further away from his ex-coworkers.
He’d find another exit somewhere else.